


The Lone Soldier

by HistoryNerd1066



Series: The Lone Soldier [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-22 13:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15583107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoryNerd1066/pseuds/HistoryNerd1066
Summary: Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan wait for Aramis to return after finding out about Marsac's death. Will things go back to the way they were, or will there be a distance between them forever?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all the lovely comments on my fic One Day, this is just a little continuation of that as promised to Lady_Neve, so you might wanna give that a read before checking this out! :) 
> 
> Enjoy, and if you do, please review! 
> 
> Thanks

Athos sat at the table, barely registering the mumblings of his two companions by his side. They were all agitated by the empty space their friend left, not just at the table. Tréville had barely given them anything at all, apart from the knowledge that Marsac was dead. He had ordered them to say nothing more unless Aramis wished to speak of it, and they were not to chase him for answers right now.

Porthos had immediately grumbled in resistance, wanting nothing more to ignore such ridiculous orders and find his missing brother. “Leave him be for the moment, if he doesn’t return by morning muster then you can find him.” Not expecting an argument, Tréville turned and stormed up the stairs leading to his office, ignoring the group’s stares.

Athos placed a pacifying hand on his friend’s tense shoulder before taking his seat at the table, grabbing at the drink he had left there a few minutes before. The larger Musketeer stayed stood, fuming at the situation, aching to leave. His eyes flew from Tréville’s door towards the entrance, back and forth, and Athos could hear his pained thoughts.

“Tréville is right, _mon ami,_ perhaps Aramis needs some space.”

“Yeah?” Porthos spoke gruffly as he threw himself beside Athos, watching his friend calmly sip at his drink. “Like we ‘ave done all day?” Athos paused, realising exactly what Porthos was getting at. “Look where it’s got us. Got ‘im.” The bigger man shook his head, aiming his gaze now at d’Artagnan, who had managed to stay quiet until this point. “We should go after ‘im.”

d’Artagnan shifted nervously, subjected to the intense gaze of Porthos, as well as the curious eye of his mentor. Athos watched him wriggle slightly, itching to have the attention redirected, he almost felt sorry for the boy. Porthos was only using him, hoping his impressionable youth would force him to agree, making it two against one.

“Porthos, what is the use? He’ll evade us, he always does when he wishes.” Athos sighed, sliding his drink away from him for the moment. “Besides, he’s probably found comfort elsewhere.” Even as he said it he cringed, wondering if that were really the case. He felt two pairs of eyes on him in an instant, knowing the owners both refused to believe his words.

“All we can do is wait, he may even return sooner than we hope.” Athos said, trying to sound reassuring.

Porthos’ scoff assured him it hadn’t worked, but he refused to say more. Porthos would stay, he knew that, but he would do so on the condition that he could complain about it constantly. It would be a long night; Athos reached for his drink.

* * *

 

Daylight finally dawned, and Athos could not be more grateful. He had listened to Porthos’ aggravated arguments all night. d’Artagnan had joined in a few times, although thankfully stayed mostly silent, once excusing himself to inform Constance of what had happened. Porthos had offered to accompany the lad, though both he and Athos had seen right through it. d’Artagnan was gaining his strength, but even Athos would find it difficult forcing Porthos back into the garrison whilst he went on the search for his friend.

Now, as the sun beamed in the sky, all eyes were glued to the garrison entrance. The tension was palpable, and even Athos sat anxiously, curious as to whether his friend would turn up. He would, he always did after a wander. Still, there was always that nervous energy around, the question of his whereabouts driving them crazy. There would eventually be a time when Aramis would wander too far, and his companions would be waiting for a very long time. Hopefully not this time, Athos silently prayed.

He sensed Tréville’s presence on the balcony, and he glanced up. The Captain nodded, his eyes searching Athos’ for some reassurance, although he already knew the answer. Athos shook his head minutely, noticing no change in the older man’s posture. It was eating him up, though, and Athos knew because he felt the same. Porthos and d’Artagnan must he think he doesn’t care, but he does. There are questions ready and waiting on his lips, his eyes blink only when necessary, lest he miss something. Some _one._

The events of the previous day ran like a loop through his mind, and he wondered what the atmosphere would be like when Aramis did return. _If_ he did. Athos had no idea what had happened once he, Porthos and d’Artagnan left the garrison once Aramis had questioned Tréville. All he knew for sure was that there had been a commotion in the armoury, gunshots were heard, and Marsac was dead. What led up to that, and the events following remained a mystery to everyone except Aramis and Tréville.

How could they have followed Aramis though, when he trusted someone such as Marsac? The man was a deserter and assassin, who challenged the integrity of their Captain. His source was a nobody, somebody only riling him to get a good fight from him. Even that episode made Marsac’s disposition quite clear, he could hardly be trusted. Aramis was blinded by his old friendship with the man, who he used to be, and refused to see differently.

Athos felt weary, and rubbed a hand over his face, eager to see his friend walk through the garrison now, smiling. Athos had warned him about turning down the wrong path, would Aramis have been able to handle it if the deserter was right? Of course, he wasn’t, Tréville had answered his questions. Although, as Athos ran that particular event over and over, he became more and more doubtful. He had seen that mark on the Duke’s back, somewhat attesting Marsac’s bold claim. Still, did that necessarily confirm their captain’s involvement? Perhaps not. However, Tréville’s anger when questioned spoke volumes. Nobody wants to be accused of such an awful crime, but Tréville’s reaction seemed… odd.

The swordsman shook his head, not yet ready to give way to those thoughts yet. He had warned Aramis off, but truly he had been hoping to protect himself. What would any of them do if the accusation had been true? Would Aramis still be traipsing around alone, wherever he was, mourning the loss of his once close friend? Athos could only wonder as he waited impatiently, aching to get the answers he desperately sought for.

It was a huge relief then, when their marksman and friend stumbled into the garrison just before morning muster was to begin.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys! My computer was being a bit awful so I've been trying to update for a couple of days but apparently it was not allowed.   
> Sorry for the wait, and I'm sorry it's not such a long chapter this time, the next one will be good don't worry! 
> 
> Thanks for all your kind comments so far :)

Porthos jumped up instantly when he noticed the familiar figure entering the garrison. Athos and d’Artagnan soon followed his example, although the bigger man made sure he would be noticed first, eager to see how his friend was. Porthos was ready to give the man a hug, should he need it, which was likely.

All night, Porthos sat fidgeting in his seat, running over and over the events of the previous day. Well, the events he was aware of, since he had been dealing with other matters when the accusations had reached their climax. Honestly, the Musketeer had no idea how things were going to end, but he was glad to hear Aramis was still around.

The younger man walked slowly towards them, not rushing, seemingly indifferent to their presence. Would he know that they had been there, waiting for them? Would he believe it, that they had not abandoned him? Porthos knew that perhaps he and his friends were wrong to allow Aramis to run to Marsac, to carry on with his quarrel with the Captain, but their friend was stubborn and had been encouraged by his old accomplice.

Obviously, there was no doubt in Porthos’ mind of Tréville’s lack of involvement in Savoy, and so he felt no hesitation in refusing to follow up Marsac’s accusation against him. It only troubled him that Aramis was so easily swayed into believing his old friend’s claims against their Captain, since he only saw the man he was before the massacre. It frustrated Porthos to no end that Aramis followed him, believing he had been saved by the man, when he had also been left with his comrades. Yet the deserter was not finished there and had come to challenge Aramis’ peace once more.

“Good morning,” his friend greeted them casually, although his voice seemed more subdued than usual, lacking his usual flourish. It had always been difficult to read Aramis, and even though they had been friends awhile now, Porthos still had some trouble deciphering his body language.

The younger Musketeer smiled, lifting his head only slightly. Porthos could not decide whether this was due to sadness, or his anger towards them for allowing him to follow his old accomplice on a task doomed to failure. He knew he should never have left his friend with the madman, and as soon as he had stormed away he felt a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, knowing they had somewhat forced him into Marsac’s manipulating hands. Surely Aramis should have seen the bad state his old friend was in though, Porthos reasoned.

“Where ‘ave you been?” Porthos asked, before Athos could stop him. He knew Athos had wanted Aramis to open up if he so wished, but Porthos could not help himself.

“And hello to you too, Porthos.” Aramis’ smile didn’t fall, although his eyes were barely noticeable with his hat hanging so low. From what Porthos was able to glimpse, there appeared to be quite a colourful bruise around his left, perhaps what his comrade was trying to hide. If there weren’t so many questions to be asked already, Porthos would have asked him now.

“We were waitin’ for you.” Porthos moved closer to his friend, crossing his arms. He realised he might look slightly intimidating, but he was only waiting for answers, which were often difficult to extricate from their younger friend.

“I’m sorry, I was not aware.” Smile still plastered on, Aramis mirrored his friend’s position, seemingly challenging him. They did not deserve this sort of treatment, Porthos thought, anger bubbling up somewhat; did Aramis even care that they had been so worried about him?

“We know what ‘appened.” Porthos caught the tremble of his friend’s lips, only a slight movement, but still noticeable.

“Yes, I gathered you would.” The frustration rose as Aramis fixed the smile back on his face, not as cheerful as usual but stubborn nonetheless. He hated that his friend deflected his questions, refusing to answer him honestly for once. “If you must know, I managed to find comfort elsewhere.” Smirking, Aramis pushed past his friend gently to greet the others.

Porthos swiftly turned around to confront his friend with more questions before Athos could prevent him, wondering why Aramis refused to tell them anything. However, he was interrupted by Tréville who had also noticed the younger man’s arrival and made his way towards the group


End file.
